


A Dangerous Bargain

by HisAngelThursday



Series: Gangster Idiots in Love: Stand Alone Fics [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Disaster Tommy Shelby, Bottom Alfie Solomons, Bottom Tommy Shelby, Chastity, Chastity Device, Come Eating, Creampie, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Crying, Dildos, Feminization, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forced Feminization, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Humiliation, Lingerie, M/M, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paddling, Pegging, Public Humiliation, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Frustration, Shower Sex, Situational Humiliation, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Strip Tease, Submissive Tommy Shelby, Teasing, Tommy doesn't even suspect that Alfie might enjoy bottoming to begin with, Tommy in Lingerie, Top Alfie Solomons, Topping from the Bottom, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: While moving in together, Tommy suggests another big change for their relationship. Alfie is more than happy to oblige -- for a price.Or: the one in which Tommy wants to top for once, and agrees to let Alfie do whatever he wants to him for a week in exchange. It's fluffier than it sounds, I promise.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: Gangster Idiots in Love: Stand Alone Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756603
Comments: 74
Kudos: 209





	1. The Deal

It took them forever, absolutely forever, right, to find a place that appeals to both of them. Which is absolutely ridiculous, in Alfie’s opinion, seeing as how they both value the same things: form and function. Tommy with a bit more emphasis on form, and Alfie more on function, but still.

Maybe it was the subtle differences in priorities. Alfie wanted an enclosed yard for Cyril to run around in. With Tommy, there had to be a stable to sate his inexplicable love of horses. “You know, mate, there are those who rival your obsession with those terrifying fucking animals,” Alfie remarked, “but usually they’re little girls in schoolyards.”

Alfie had slept on the couch that night. 

Eventually, though, they found a place that appealed to Tommy’s flamboyant sense of style and Alfie’s more sensible desire for comfort, with a fenced in area for Cyril and a pasture for horses. They are moving up in the world, aren’t they. 

Alfie says so as Tommy fusses around, doing something or other in his wardrobe.

“Mm-hmm. Moving up, we are,” he agrees. “And into legitimate business. That’s the priority.”

“Just had to break a few rules to do it.” Alfie arranges himself on their newly obtained mattress, finally one big enough for both of them. The one at Tommy’s old place absolutely murdered Alfie’s fucking back, and the one at Alfie’s was small enough that they could only both fit if Tommy lay on top of him. For someone so little, he certainly got heavy after a few hours. “Funny, innit? System’s set up in such a way that men like us can only break into legitimate business is to first excel at illegitimate business.”

“Because we’re both of a persecuted race.” Tommy sarcastically parrots Alfie’s wording in a way Alfie does not fucking appreciate. 

“For fuck’s sake, get out of there, will you? I’m sick of conversating with a fucking wardrobe.”

Eventually, Tommy emerges from whatever on earth he was doing in there, and goodness, doesn’t he just look delectable. He’s wearing a short-sleeved undershirt, flush high on his cheekbones and hair a bit messy. 

“Still got a bit of moving in to do,” he sighs, looking around. “It’ll take practice, filling a house this size.”

“Mm. Well, I’ve got what I need, mate. A TV, a bed, and a pretty thing to fill it with. Now, get over here.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but wastes no time in joining Alfie anyway, the little tart. 

Sex lasts a solid hour, and Alfie makes Tommy ride his cock, reverse-cowgirl style. The position lets Alfie spread those luscious cheeks, watching his cock disappear into that tight, pink ring of muscle. It’s no surprise, really, that Alfie spends first – who wouldn’t, at such a lovely sight?

He spins Tommy to face him after, so he can see his face as he jacks him off, the way his pretty eyes roll back as Alfie makes him come. Still, Alfie notices he’s unusually silent afterwards, saying little as he rises to get cleaned up.

“You ever notice,” he says, finally, tugging on a soft pair of sleeping pants, “that it’s the one on the bottom who usually ends up doing all the work?”

Alfie raises his eyebrows. “Well, no, treacle, matter of fact I haven’t,” he says, humoring him. “I’m usually a bit too busy enjoying all your lovely work. But if you have an issue with it, I have no problem pushing you around a bit more.” 

Tommy flushes a bit at that, lowering his eyes. “It’s not that,” he says, though Alfie makes a mental note to push him around a bit more anyway. “I was just thinking. We’ve been together – two years now, yeah?”

“Give or take.”

“And in all that time, you’ve never once let me fuck you.” 

Ah. So, that’s what this is about.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Alfie is not averse to being fucked. Being in control is his thing, which is a position he can absolutely retain with a dick inside him. In fact, it can be advantageous – men are often easiest to control, he’s found, when they have they’re dick inside you. 

He just enjoys fucking Tommy so much, and Tommy clearly enjoys being fucked so much, that it simply never came up. 

Still, he doesn’t say this, curious to see how Tommy’s logic will play itself out. “Oh?”

Tommy sits on the bed and looks at him in that intense way he usually reserves for business partners. “I have a proposition for you. One that I think will be mutually beneficial.”

Alfie holds back laughter. Leave it to Tommy to get business and pleasure mixed up in his pretty little head. “And what would that be, darling?”

“You asked me, some time ago, if I’d be willing to experiment with – with chastity.” Alfie doesn’t miss the way his voice wavers. “And I said –”

“You said no,” Alfie finishes, “though I could tell you were, and still are, very interested in the prospect.”

“I’m not,” Tommy blatantly lies. The pinkness of his ears gives him away. “But, I am willing to offer it – for one week, no more, no less – if you’re willing to let me fuck you.” 

Alfie rubs his beard, trying not to appear like this proposition is too damn good to be true. He likes being fucked, by the right person, and being fucked by Tommy absolutely piques his interest. And Tommy is willing to bargain his chastity for it? This is entirely too good to be true.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, mate.” He thinks for a minute, wondering what else he can squeeze out of the poor dear. “Tell you what: I’ll be willing to try it, if, and only if, I also get to do whatever I want to you for an hour each day until the week is completed.”

Tommy's breath hitches, clearly intrigued by this prospect, even as his brow creases. He looks conflicted, as if finally realizing that he’s being short-changed in this arrangement. “Everything except fuck me,” he decides, finally. “It’s only fair.”

Which is a proper loss, innit, but Alfie’s a good businessman. He’s willing to make some compromises for such a singular opportunity. Besides, the limitation, Alfie suspects, will only spur his creativity. “Done.”

Tommy, like a proper little businessman, puts out his hand. Alfie shakes it, smiling deviously to himself. 

“Oh, my darling. You’re in for quite a week.”


	2. Day One

Tommy wakes up the next morning with a feeling of existential dread. What the hell, what the utter fuck, had he been thinking? 

Tracing his logic, he realized that he’d gotten the idea while riding Alfie’s cock. Without much to look at besides Alfie’s legs and feet, he’d let his imagination run wild, through every sexual position they’d tried in the past, to ones he hoped to try in the future.

And then, his mind landed on an interesting visual: Alfie – bigger, bulkier, harrier, all around more manly than him, riding Tommy’s cock. Alfie could dominate him that way, could hold Tommy’s hands down at his sides, while bouncing up and down on top of him, forcing him to accept this pleasure. 

The visual was enough to make Tommy nearly spend right in that moment, but then he felt the familiar spill of hot cum inside his ass and he was being spun, roughly, to face Alfie, his own cock being jerked to release. 

But even afterwards, Tommy wasn’t able to let go of his unusual fantasy. Of course, Alfie would never agree to bottom for Tommy – he wasn’t the sort of man who liked that sort of thing. Tommy still found it embarrassing that he was the sort of man who liked that sort of thing, and part of him still considered it a failure on his part. Alfie would never have such a weakness.

Unless, he could be bargained with. He was a businessman, after all. If Tommy offered him something he wanted, really wanted, in return – 

He settled on chastity. That seemed like something he could deal with. What was chastity, after all, except not being allowed to orgasm? He already knew, on the same shameful level that he liked having a dick up his arse, that he was intrigued by the idea, at being controlled at such an intimate level, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. 

But now, it was something he could barter, and that was different than admitting to it, wasn’t it? So, he offered it. And he was so excited that Alfie was even considering the idea, of allowing Tommy’s dick inside him, that Tommy hardly thought twice when Alfie modified the arrangement. 

Total submission to Alfie, for one hour each day? He was often submissive during sex anyway. Now, it would just be more official, honor-bound, for a week. 

Only when he was lying awake that night, paging through memories of Alfie’s sexual creativity, did he realize what this would mean for him. Alfie could be sadistic, could make Tommy feel like he was losing his mind. And Tommy had just given him permission to do so.

The anxiety follows him as he dresses for work, only decreasing slightly as he joins Alfie at the breakfast table. It’s just Alfie, after all. Just his man. Sitting there, reading the newspaper and listening to some program on contemporary Jewish issues, in those half-moon glasses that seem suited for a much older man. 

Maybe he’s forgotten the arrangement, Tommy thinks, and is surprised by how disappointed he is at the prospect. 

“Sit down, treacle, I made you some coffee.” 

Tommy’s stomach sinks, even as his heart flutters. Alfie hasn’t forgotten. Tommy can hear it in the tone of his voice.

“And I saved you some shakshuka,” he continues, “which you’re going to eat. You’re already little, you don’t need to starve yourself on top of it.”

Tommy knows better than to argue when Alfie’s in this kind of mode. He sits down next to him, in the chair Alfie’s indicating. It’s closer than usual. Usually they sit across the table from one another. 

Tommy’s unease grows as he begins to eat the shakshuka Alfie left for him – still hot, and delicious, though Tommy can never seem to get used to eating this early. Alfie is being quiet. Alfie is never quiet. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?

The question answers itself, when Alfie – not even looking up from his paper – feels his way over to Tommy’s lap. Tommy swallows, spoon frozen between the bowl and his mouth, as he watches Alfie unzip him. He feels a hot flush blossom on his face as Alfie takes out his soft cock.

“Keep eating, petal, no reason to stop,” Alfie commands, even as his hand begins to work. 

“Alfie, I’m about to leave for –”

“One hour each day. Remember?” The sharpness in Alfie’s tone makes him fall silent. “Never said the hour had to be all in one place, did I?”

Tommy says nothing, because it’s fucking true. His negotiation skills slipped because he was letting his cock think for him.

Speaking of which, Alfie, not even looking, is stroking, pulling back the foreskin, coaxing him to hardness. Which proves to be embarrassingly easy. The shameful nature of the situation, the casual assertion of ownership, makes Tommy flush all over with arousal. 

He’s forced to sit there, bound by his own agreement, eating a fucking Jewish breakfast dish as though Alfie weren’t stroking his cock. 

The situation becomes significantly more miserable when he remembers he can’t orgasm. For one week. Why did he think he could do this?

Granted, there were times when he went more than a week without sex or touching himself, usually because he was so busy he fucking well forgot. But he’s not particularly busy now, and he’s living with Alfie. Alfie, who’s no doubt going to use his significant intellect to torment him as much as possible. Fuck. 

Alfie is purposefully keeping him hard without bringing him anywhere close to the edge. Normally, Tommy would tell him to stop fooling around and touch him like he means it, but now he considers it a small mercy. Alfie could reduce him to a mess if he wants him to. 

“What time do you have to go to work, darling?” Alfie asks casually. He has the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him, still reading. 

Tommy sips his coffee, determined to retain as much composure as he can. “I only have another minute or two. There’s an important meeting I –” Tommy nearly chokes, coffee sloshing, as Alfie increases speed, gripping his dick harder as he strokes. 

“Alfie –” Tommy grips the table, as if afraid he’ll fall. 

“Such a cute little prick you’ve got, innit.” Alfie’s looking at him now, and Tommy wishes he could retreat from the stare. “Can’t wait to have it inside me. Watch your face when I finally let you come.”

“Alfie, fuck –” Tommy can’t believe, even after all this time, that Alfie can wreck him so quickly. “I’m gonna –” 

“Nah, you’re not, mate.” Just like that, Alfie unceremoniously takes his hand away. 

Tommy can barely keep himself from humping the air. His cock just like an exclamation point, glistening and indignant.

Alfie smiles pityingly at him. “That should go down by the time you get to London, love.” He pats his thigh, in what is surely a purposefully patronizing gesture. “I’ll put your coffee in a to-go cup.”

Tommy is left sitting there, staring at his erect cock, wondering how the hell he’ll survive this week.

“And don’t worry, sweetie. I haven’t forgotten about the rest of today’s hour,” Alfie adds cheerfully. “I just want to start you off slow. When you get home, I’ll be sure to collect.”


	3. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie finds a creative way around the rule that he's not allowed to fuck Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone already commenting! You keep me posting. <3

Tommy wakes the next morning to a burgeoning erection, vague notions of sex, of Alfie’s body and his, invading his dreams. He moans softly into his pillow, and instinctively reaches between his legs to relieve himself. 

He feels a hand on his wrist, gently tugging him away, and – not quite awake yet – groans his frustration.

“Sssshh-sh-sh-sh.” Whiskery kisses are pressed to his face, making him scrunch up and try to hide in the pillow. “Forgot our bargain already, hmm?”

The memories rush back to Tommy now. Tommy had returned home late last night, hoping Alfie would be asleep. But no, he was wide awake, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sitting up in bed.

“Come join me, treacle,” he said, as innocent as could be, patting the space next to him. Tommy, fully aware of what was coming, obeyed. 

Sure enough, Alfie spent the next fifty minutes keeping him right on the cusp of orgasm, barely able to contain his moans. Whenever he got too loud, Alfie would shush him. “I’m trying to watch my program, love,” he scolded. “Really, you ought to be more considerate.”

After the hour was up, Alfie simply kissed him goodnight, rolled over, and went to sleep, while Tommy lay awake long after, dick hard and aching. 

He expects more of this treatment now, now that he’s awake and at Alfie’s mercy, so he’s surprised when the mattress dips and then rises. When he opens his eyes, Alfie is up and leaving the room. 

“Better hurry and get ready, dear,” he calls after him. “Wouldn’t want to be late for your important meetings.” 

* * *

Tommy remains suspicious throughout breakfast. Their chairs are in the usual places, Tommy’s across from Alfie’s, and Alfie leaves Tommy unmolested as he reads the relevant sections of the morning paper. The only time he bothers him is when he makes him eat a few bites of matzo brei. 

Alfie kisses him goodbye, pressing a to-go cup into his hand. “Have a nice day at work, sweetie.” 

Tommy leaves for work with a sense of existential dread. 

* * *

Tommy attends his business that day as usual. A family meeting, characteristically full of drama. A meeting with prospective investors. A new proposed policy in parliament. It’s good to have his mind fully occupied, but a little corner of it remains with Alfie and what he might have in store for him.

Sex is already on his mind a great deal more than usual. In the quiet moments, when he’s driving from place to place, he finds himself thinking about how nice it would feel to be inside Alfie’s mouth right now, to be stroked firmly with a cock inside him. He has to redirect his thoughts quickly, well aware he won’t get relief for a good long while. If only there was some way to turn off his baser urges. They bring him so much trouble.

On his drive home, he receives a phone call from Alfie. “You eaten yet, treacle?” 

“Hello to you too, Alfie. Yes, I’ve eaten.” Tommy has to pause to think. Has he eaten? Yes, a few hours ago, with the new investors. Food wasn’t really on his mind then, but he vaguely recalls sushi. “Yeah. I’ve eaten.” 

“Hmm.” Alfie sounds unconvinced. “Alright, so I’ll fix you something after, then.”

“You don’t need to do that,” says Tommy. And then, with some concern, “After?”

“Yeah, love, don’t worry about it. Listen, you on your way home?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes away.”

“And you don’t have to do anything this evening, do you? Not straight away?”

“No,” Tommy’s getting increasingly anxious at whatever Alfie is implying.

“Alright then, good. I’ll draw you a bath, then.”

“A bath?”

“Yeh. You got a bad connection or something, treacle? Can you hear me alright?”

“Yes, Alfie, I hear you fine.” Tommy scowls at the condescension, which was probably Alfie’s intention. “I’m simply wondering what you’re –”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you in thirty minutes, won’t I.” Alfie kisses into the phone. “See you soon, poppet.”

He hangs up. Tommy knows one thing above all else: he’s in for a hell of an evening.

* * *

Alfie has indeed drawn him a bath by the time he gets home. “Wash thoroughly. You know what I mean,” Alfie instructs him, after kissing him ‘hello.’ “Want you nice clean for what I have in mind.”

Tommy hurries off to do so, hoping Alfie doesn’t notice how deeply he flushes at the filthy words. 

He obeys, of course, and washes thoroughly – he always does, cleanliness is deeply important to him – especially between his legs. He’s starting to have an idea of what Alfie might have in mind. 

He puts on a dressing gown, still flushed hot from the tub, and steps out to join Alfie in the bedroom.

“Hello, treacle. Do me the biggest favor, and take that silly thing off, why don’t you?”

Tommy swallows, but obeys. It’s silly, that he still feels so self-conscious undressing in front of Alfie, but Alfie radiates power. It’s how he imagines most people feel in his own presence, based on how they act around him.

It doesn’t help that Alfie is still fully clothed as Tommy slips off and sets aside his only article of clothing, leaving his naked body vulnerable to scrutiny. Alfie’s eyes are hungry as they take him in. 

“Do me another favor, right,” Alfie says, voice absent, “and get on the bed for me, hmm?”

Tommy swallows, and crawls onto the bed. He tries not to glance at Alfie for approval, irrationally worried that he’ll do something wrong.

“Beautiful,” Alfie murmurs. “Now, do me another great, big favor, right, and press your face down –” Alfie pats the space in front of Tommy – “right here.” 

Tommy starts to lie down, but Alfie stops him. “Keep your arse up, treacle.”

Tommy groans. This is by far his least favorite position, yet somehow the one in which he comes the hardest. In his opinion, that makes it all the more humiliating. 

Still, he obeys, not wanting to disappoint Alfie. 

“Beautiful,” Alfie repeats. He rubs his hands in circles over Tommy’s cheeks, a finger down the crack between them. 

Tommy buries his face into the mattress, mortified, even as he feels his cock jump. 

He feels the mattress shift as Alfie settles himself down behind him, hears the telltale crack of a lube bottle. “Now, I was thinking, right –” says Alfie, and Tommy can hear the wet squelch of him slicking up his fingers – “about how I’m going to make this week a mutually enjoyable experience, if I am not allowed to fuck you. Truly a loss for both of us.”

A slicked up finger circles his arsehole. “So I figured,” Alfie continues, pressing a fingertip, teasingly, just inside, “I’d have to improvise.”

“Improvise?” Tommy tries to look up, only to be roughly shoved back down. 

“Stay there, sweet thing. You’re in just the position for a spanking if you don’t behave.”

Tommy grits his teeth. 

Alfie fingers him open as he usually does, curling his fingers in such a way that Tommy can’t help but squirm and moan. “That feel good, darling?” Alfie asks, with false concern. “Such a shame you’re not going to come tonight. You always sound so lovely.”

Bastard. Fucking bastard. Tommy doesn’t know why the hell he puts up with him.

Alfie is more thorough than usual, however, working the muscle till its loose and aching and Tommy’s cock is pulsing forlornly, as if wondering why he isn’t being fucked yet. 

“Look at you, open as a cheap tart.” Alfie presses a kiss to one of his cheeks, the tenderness in direct contrast to the degrading statement. “Wet and pink. Like a woman.”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut tight, as if he can block it out. 

“Oh, how I’d love to stick my cock in there. Into that tight, wet heat,” Alfie growls. “Hear you moan like a whore for me.” 

Tommy can barely suppress a moan now, and whimpers as he tries to. He keeps instinctively rocking back on Alfie’s fingers, and he hates himself for it. 

“Oh, well,” Alfie sighs. “I suppose this will have to do.”

Tommy gasps as he feels the tip of a cock pressed to his arsehole. He looks back, shocked that Alfie would violate the terms of his agreement. That’s when he sees the hot pink dildo in Alfie’s hand, almost exactly the same size as Alfie’s cock.

“I’m going to fuck you with it,” Alfie explains, unnecessarily. “And you’re going to pretend it’s me, yeah? Because it is. And I’m going to take meself in hand, and pretend it’s you. The only difference is, I get to come. You, my dear, do not.” 

Tommy can only groan as the dildo penetrates him. Alfie fucks him thoroughly, and seems to know just how much to avoid his prostate to keep him from coming. Tommy eventually can’t keep himself from moaning, and fucking himself back onto the dildo. 

“Fucking ‘ell, Tommy,” Alfie breaths. Tommy can hear him jacking himself harder, till eventually he spills over Tommy’s arse. Lucky bastard. “Bet you wish you could do that, eh, sweetie?” 

Tommy is seriously tempted to answer with a ‘fuck you,’ but he knows better than to instigate Alfie right now.

“Well. I still have twenty minutes left in today’s hour, so why don’t we spend it in that bath together? You certainly need it, dirty little thing.”

Tommy soon finds himself back in the tub, gasping and writhing in Alfie’s lap. 

“Stop squirming, sweetie, I’ve got to get you clean somehow, don’t I?” Alfie tuts, rubbing a soapy hand torturously over Tommy’s straining cock. He pays special attention to the head and foreskin. 

“It’s ‘cause you’re not cut. Makes you more sensitive, lucky for you,” Alfie explains, and Tommy’s barely coherent enough to listen. “Don’t you feel lucky, Tom?”

“Fuh...fuck,” Tommy breaths. 

“Well, it’s a good thing my betrothed has such fine conversation skills.”

When the hour is finally up, Tommy isn’t sure whether he wants to cry with relief or despair. He just knows how desperately he wants to come. 

As he pants through the aftershock of his torment, trying to will away his erection, Alfie gently cups his balls – definitely not helping. “Already so full,” he murmurs, as if mesmerized. “Can’t wait to see how desperate I can make you.”

And as much as Tommy dreads these words, he can’t help but admit to himself: he can’t wait, either.


	4. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As sexual frustration gets the better of him, Tommy makes a mistake.

Tommy went to work the next day feeling just a little oversensitive, just a little pent up. His balls sat uncomfortably in his usual underwear, three days worth of pent up releasing putting him on edge. There was a reason, he recalls now, why he was careful not to refrain from sex for too long before he met Alfie: if he didn’t regularly get physical release, it made him preoccupied, vulnerable. 

Granted, he’s not exactly fighting for his life on the cold streets anymore, and he’s not nearly at the point where it impacts his ability to work, but he still resents Alfie for putting him in this position. He has imaginary arguments with Alfie about it all the way home. 

“But treacle,” Alfie would say, in his ever-so-innocent, sing-song voice, “it was you who suggested this bargain to begin with, don’t you remember?”

To which Tommy would respond, “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and that much should have been obvious. Shame on you for taking advantage of me when I was blinded by lust.”

And Alfie would feel properly ashamed of himself, and they’d both agree to call this whole, ridiculous arrangement off. Alfie wouldn’t enjoy having a dick inside him, anyway. He was a Man – the kind of man Arthur Senior would have wanted for a son, the kind of man who wouldn’t get mocked by his fellow soldiers, compared to a woman for his big blue eyes and feminine lips and tiny body. 

The thought makes him feel resentful, and he resolves not to talk to Alfie all through dinner. Alfie does more than enough talking for the both of them, however, rambling on about the stew he’s made, about Ollie’s latest incompetence at work, about an old lady he saw on the street feeding a pigeon. He doesn’t even mention Tommy’s state of sexual frustration, and it makes him bristle. Because, if he’s going to do this to Tommy, the very least he could do is acknowledge it. 

He grouchily helps to clear the table, hoping Alfie will notice, but he doesn’t seem to. 

“You’re awfully quiet, ain’t ya, sweetie?” he finally remarks. “Tiring day at work, I’ll bet.” 

He knows. The bastard knows. Tommy can hear it in his voice.

He refuses to look at Alfie, even as he feels him lumber up behind him. He shouldn’t be surprised when Alfie squeezes his ass, but in his pent-up state, he can barely contain a yelp. “I got just the thing to help with that,” Alfie growls in his ear. 

He leaves Tommy standing there with his dick already hardening, and he presses it against the sink to stifle it. He’s doomed. 

When he goes upstairs, he’s unsurprised when Alfie silently follows him, lumbering behind him like a bear stalking its prey. Alfie bullies him into the shower, feeling him up thoroughly as hot water cascades over them. 

“Such a round arse on such a skinny body,” he growls, for not the first time, spreading the cheeks and kneading the flesh. “Feels like it’s here to tempt me. Is it?”

“N-no,” Tommy manages, pressed face-first against the shower wall. He’s learned that even if it sounds like a rhetorical question, with Alfie, it probably isn’t. 

“Nah. Don’t you try and trick me, my little devil. It definitely is.” He presses his thumb-tip to Tommy’s arsehole, eliciting a whimper. “Still a bit sore from last night, are you? Little slag you are.”

Tommy nods as best he can, feeling his neck flush.

“Feels like that warrants punishment, trying to tempt me, after I was already so good to you. But first –” Tommy yelps as he’s spun around, and Alfie gets to his knees before Tommy’s already turgid erection. “A little something to satisfy my hunger.” He pauses, breath ghosting torturously against the tip of Tommy’s cock. “And remember, sweetie, if you don’t manage to refrain from coming, we’ll just have to start this week all over again.”

Alfie brings Tommy right to the edge over and over, and each time, Tommy has to push at his head, begging him to stop. The prospect of starting this torturous week anew is too much for him to bear. 

Finally, Alfie seems to decide he’s had enough – or rather, his knees have had enough, judging by the way he grunts as he pushes himself off the tiled floor. He doesn’t even let Tommy get dried off before shoving him face-first on the bed, over a mound of pillows he’d no doubt placed there specifically with this in mind. 

“And now,” growls Alfie, spreading Tommy’s cheeks, “time for the main course.” 

He eats Tommy’s arse until his jaw must ache from it, gently but firmly holding his hips still, preventing him from humping the pillows. “Such a slag when you get properly turned on,” he murmurs, coming up for air. “Bet you’d hump my leg if I let you, fucking filthy.”

Tommy groans at that, the shameful words shooting straight to his cock. He hates himself for feeling this way sometimes, but his hatred is irrelevant. Alfie strips him of any form of recourse and leaves him bare, vulnerable, forced to accept whatever Alfie offers. 

Finally, the hour must be nearing its close – or else, Alfie is just sick of waiting to collect his own orgasm – and presses his cock between Tommy’s cheeks, rutting against him till he spills.

Tommy groans into the pillows again, desperate with want, reminded that he won’t get that release for another four days. It’s almost too much.

Alfie seems to sense his desperation as doesn’t taunt him too cruelly with his denial, spooning him from behind and coaxing him under the blankets, making soft, soothing noises. It’s hard not to be comforted, even as his cock remains so hard it’s almost painful, and Tommy falls fitfully into sleep.

* * *

Tommy dreams of sex that night. Of struggling to get off, but being unable to, orgasm held just out of reach. Of Alfie’s mouth, pink and ripe, tormenting his cock. Of the bulk of him, his barrel-chested, tattooed, beefy form, of being on top of him, feeling the heat of him. Of pressing into that heat, getting relief from it. 

Tommy’s eyes open blearily, the sun streaming into the room, but the feeling of pressing against Alfie remains. Because he is, he realizes. 

In the night, their positions reversed, and Alfie’s back is now turned to him. Looking down, Tommy realizes his own morning wood is pressed against Alfie’s arse cheek. 

Tommy flushes at the realization, but his embarrassment is somewhat assuaged by the fact that Alfie clearly isn’t awake yet. And it just feels good, so good, to rut against the fullness of his arse. 

So Tommy delicately wraps his arms around Alfie’s middle, lining himself up so he’s pressed to Alfie’s crack, and begins a series of shallow thrusts. He promises himself that each will be the last, but he’s just so horny, and Alfie’s arse feels like bliss to him right now. 

He closes his eyes, stifling a groan, thinking about how good it would feel to rub himself to release against Alfie’s body. But his blissful mood shatters as soon as his eyes open, and he’s greeted with the sight of Alfie, very much awake, peering over his shoulder at him. 

“Well, sweetie,” he mumbles, voice still sleep-foggy. “I certainly hope you enjoyed that, because you’ve just made a terrible, awful mistake.” 


	5. Day Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy receives a lesson in self-discipline, and wonders if he's gotten in over his head. Alfie is having the time of his life.

Tommy expects Alfie to pull him over his knee right then and there. They’re both naked, and Alfie isn’t one to be deterred by grogginess when he has an end goal in mind. They stay that way for what feels like a miniature eternity, Tommy locking eyes with Alfie’s intense stare, waiting to be sentenced. 

And then, Alfie gets up, his nudity doing little to help Tommy’s enduring erection. “Well, best be getting ready, treacle, I know how you hate being late.”

Tommy watches him in a fog. He’s not naive enough to misinterpret this as a good thing.

* * *

Breakfast is a tense affair. Alfie is reading the newspaper, being purposefully cavalier, pretending he doesn’t notice Tommy blatantly staring at him, attempting to figure out what penalty he’s waiting to inflict. 

Finally, Alfie says, ever-so-casually, “What time you break for lunch, sweetie?”

Tommy clears his throat. “Generally speaking, I don’t break for lunch. If I’m hungry, I eat at my desk.”

“Well, today, you’re going to break for lunch,” Alfie announces, “and you’re going to come to my office, right? And for one hour out of your day, you’re going to take exactly what I give you.”

Tommy clenches his jaw. There’s that old defiance, that indignation that Alfie would dare to speak to him like this, to tell the great Tommy Shelby what to do. It’s a shame it comes into conflict with his cock, which is already chubbing up at the thought of their public sexual encounters, past and future.

“Eat your omelet, darling, I made it special for you.” Alfie goes back to his paper. “You need to keep your strength up, don’t you?”

Tommy obeys, and swallows a few bites. Part of him can’t wait for this to be over, so breakfast isn’t quite so sexually charged, and they can talk about normal things again.

Well. Normal for them, at least. 

* * *

Tommy is nervous to say the least as he drives to his office. First of of all, he’s later than Alfie would probably like him to be – he had to wrap up a lot of meetings. Second of all, he’s more than certain Alfie has some sort of horribly creative punishment planned.

Fuck. How could he have been so stupid? Had he thought Alfie – a famously light sleeper – wouldn’t wake to Tommy rutting against him like an animal?

He flushes at the mere thought of it. For years, Tommy had prided himself on not letting his baser impulses get the better of him. He’s ashamed that he’s been brought this low, even as arousal pools in his belly at the mere thought of his own degradation.

Fuck Alfie for doing this to him. Clearly, it’s all his fault. 

Ollie greets him at the door. “Mister Solomons has been expecting you, sir. Should I tell him you’re here?”

Tommy eyes him wearily, tucking his cap into his pocket. “He’s my fiance, Ollie. I don’t think we need a go-between.” 

Ollie scratches his head, abashed. “Right. ‘Course not. Right this way, Mister Shelby.”

Tommy, of course, knows where Alfie's office is, but lets Ollie walk ahead of him anyway. He wonders, vaguely, if Ollie is looking more attractive than usual, before realizing that this is the byproduct of his own pitiful state of sexual frustration.

Christ. He should know things have gotten low when he’s contemplating Ollie’s sexual appeal. 

Ollie holds the door for him, and Tommy gives him a curt nod before stepping inside.

“There you are, treacle.” Alfie looks so completely relaxed, it actually pisses Tommy off. He’s slumped in the chair behind his desk, fingers interlocked over his belly. “You can go, Ollie, piss off. And make sure we’re undisturbed.” 

“Erm. Right-o, Mister Solomons.” 

Tommy doesn’t look back as the door shuts behind him, but something in Alfie’s eyes changes, darkening with hunger. “Come closer, won’t you, love? Such a treat to see you in my office.”

Tommy takes a step forward. Heaven help him, his dick is already filling at the mere implication of what’s coming.

He steps towards Alfie’s desk, and Alfie eyes him up and down, letting him stew in his anxiety and rising lust. “Right. Be a dear and drop your trousers for me.”

Tommy felt the blood rush to his face, but he knew better than to ask Alfie to repeat the question. There was no chance he’d misheard.

Alfie’s eyes glittered with subdued delight at his mortification, and Tommy did his best to appear unaffected. He unbuckled his belt, letting his pants drop down to his knees, leaving him in just his briefs. 

“No need to take ‘em all the way off, just like that, that’s just fine.” Alfie’s tone is bored, almost unaffected, and it makes Tommy seethe. Then comes the inevitable, “Pants too.”

Tommy knows that with his underwear gone, Alfie will see how hard he’s getting. He tries not to think about that too much, even though it's no secret how much he enjoys the shame of being totally dominated.

He pulls those down, too, baring himself humiliatingly to Alfie, who remains dressed and composed and seemingly unaffected. 

“Mmm. Now –” Alfie opens his drawer, eyeing its contents, though Tommy knows better than to ask what’s inside – “Do me a favor, right, and bend over my desk, facing me.”

Tommy, staggering forward, hobbled by his pants and trousers, complies – partially, anyhow. He keeps his arms stiff, so he’s bending as little as possible. 

To which Alfie responds by wordlessly reaching forward, knotting his fist in Tommy’s hair, and yanking him down, so his chest is pressed to the desk and his bare arse is facing the doorway. His stomach flips as he remembers that the door is unlocked, and any of Alfie’s employees could walk in at any time.

“Always did look good in pink. Makes your freckles show,” Alfie murmurs, thumbing Tommy’s cheekbone. “Fucking lovely. But this isn’t just recreational, is it, my love? You made a terrible mistake, didn’t you, this morning. Rutting up against me like a bitch in heat, dragging herself along the floor to scratch that itch. Un-fucking-acceptable, that is.”

Tommy wants to hide his face at the shameful words, but Alfie still has his fingers knotted in his hair, and his grip is unrelenting. 

“I bet you have some idea what’s coming, don’t you, sweetie?” 

And Tommy does. He also knows he’s going to simultaneously love it and hate it. 

Sure enough, Alfie reaches into his drawer and removes a paddle – Tommy’s least favorite, the one with the holes, that removes all air resistance and stings the most. 

“How many am I getting?” Tommy asks, unthinking. 

Alfie sets the paddle down, calmly, and with that same hand slaps Tommy hard across the face. It makes Tommy’s eyes well up, from humiliation more than from pain. 

“You’ll get however fucking many I decide,” Alfie informs him, gently stroking the same stinging cheek he’s just struck. “But you’re gonna count for me anyway, just so’s I can keep track.”

Alfie spanks him for what feels like hours, but then, pain always significantly prolongs time. He’s sure the loud smack of the wood against his cheeks must be audible to everyone in the building, but even with this tremendous source of shame, he eventually can’t keep himself from crying out. 

“That’s it, there’s my good little one,” Alfie growls, pausing to grope him possessively. “Let me hear you. Let everyone hear you’re fucking mine.”

And Tommy does, because he can’t fucking help it. It feels like Alfie is removing every inch of skin from his arse. The pain even overwhelms his arousal, and he can feel his erection wilt.

Alfie stops when they get to fifty, tossing the paddle aside and pulling Tommy to his chest. “S’alright, love, you’re done. You were beautiful,” he murmurs, soothing, and only then does Tommy realize he’s crying. Softly, involuntarily. He rubs his tears on Alfie’s shirt, lets him stroke his hair, even though he should loath the man for what he’s just put him through.

“Got some ointment I’ll rub on for you before you go back to work,” Alfie promises, once Tommy’s recovered somewhat. “But first, I want you to close your eyes. I’ve got a surprise for you, before you get hard again.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously, but complies. He knows Alfie is still in a very dominant mood, and wouldn’t be opposed to giving him a few more strikes if he disobeys him. 

He hears Alfie rummaging in the drawer for something, and then distinctly feels him kneeling down in front of him. Alfie’s lips ghost softly over Tommy’s cock, pressing a soft kiss to the head.

“What are you doing?” Tommy can’t help but ask, increasingly nervous.

Before Alfie answers, Tommy can feel something hard and cold and plastic fit over his soft cock. It’s a perfect fit, not at all tight, but it will definitely keep him from getting hard. 

“Just giving it a kiss goodbye, love,” comes Alfie’s smug voice. “You can look now.” 

Tommy’s eyes fly open, just in time to see the lock of a pink cock cage click into place. 

“Figured you needed a lesson in self-control,” Alfie informs him, eyes glittering. “An orgasm is officially off the table for you. But it opens up so many more possibilities.”


	6. Day 4.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While giving Tommy some much-needed aftercare, Alfie decides he's not done being sadistic yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to make this part of Day Five, but decided it was too long and required its own chapter. Thanks so much for the amazing comments, everyone, they drive me to post more. <3

Alfie can acknowledge, right, that his strong suit is probably not the reasonable application of force. As such, he refrains from indulging in everything he’d like to do to Tommy that afternoon in his office. 

Despite his throbbing lust and urge to make Tommy suck his dick under his desk or stand facing the wall in the corner like a naughty child, he magnanimously pushes those impulses down, as he’s not sure his poor darling is in the right mindset to take it right now. Though he makes a mental note to do both of those things more often, as well as to fuck Tommy in his office more often, because it’s certainly it’s own brand of afrodesiac. 

But right now, Tommy is still sobbing softly, and coming to terms with the fact that Alfie now has control over when he gets to touch his dick. Maybe if it didn’t make Alfie’s own cock throb as much as it currently is, straining against the confines of its underwear, he’d feel some pity for the poor man. Maybe. 

But Alfie can be gentle, and loving, even in the midst of the cruel little games like to play with each other. So all he does is make Tommy turn around so Alfie can rub ointment over his poor, cherry red arse, that Alfie seriously has the impulse to sink his teeth into right now. And so he does, because he’s not one to restrict himself to life’s simple pleasures. 

The sound Tommy makes in response to the sensation sounds suspiciously like a moan, pain and pleasure intermixed, and so Alfie unzips his pants and begins slowly stroking his length with one hand as he continues rubbing the ointment into Tommy’s glistening pink flesh with the other, kneading it firmly, digging in his nails, just because he can, and because he loves the hurt, lustful little sounds he can get Tommy to make. 

Eventually, he stands up, spreading Tommy’s cheeks with one hand, and holding his cock to his hole with the other. Just letting it sit there, teasing, as he strokes it. Thumbs it open, letting Tommy feel the painful stretch of it, and imagines burying himself to the hilt. 

And he says so, because Alfie’s already being magnanimous by not making him stand in the corner.

“Going to fuck you so much more often after this,” he growls in Tommy’s ear. “Makes me appreciate what I’m missing, yeah? And at the end of this week, I’m going to ride you, I’m going to sit on your dick and fucking ride you till you see stars, till your little dick spills itself inside me and you don’t know which end is up.”

Tommy moans at that, and it sounds a little like a sob, because of course, the poor dear really can’t get hard. The thought of his dick filling its cage provokes a lustful growl from Alfie. 

“And after that, right,” Alfie continues, stroking himself harder, faster, “I’m going to spread your legs, I’m going to spread your fucking legs and put them over my shoulders, and I’m going to bury myself deep this here tight little hole. Yeah, I am. And I’m going to bounce your little self up and down, control the pace completely, and you’ll have no choice but to take what I fucking give you, all spent and sleepy-eyed and over-sensitive, and I’ll be sure to hit your fucking prostate each and every fucking time.”

To this, Tommy manages a choked-out little, “Alfie,” and it’s like a fucking puff of air, soft and desparing, and it’s that sound, that beautiful little fucking sound, that sends Alfie over the edge, spilling against Tommy’s hole. 

As he pants through the aftershocks, he gently kisses Tommy’s neck, and doesn’t bother to wipe him off before tugging up his pants and trousers. Tommy looks despairingly over his shoulder at Alfie as he realizes he’ll have to drive back to parliament with Alfie’s cum drying on his arse. 

“Told you I had some lotion for you, sweetie,” Alfie murmurs, pressing another kiss to his neck, because alright, he can be a little sadistic. But it turns him on like little else to picture Tommy trying to conduct his business, feeling Alfie on him in so many ways. He pats him on his arse, making him wince, his abused flesh still very sore. “Off you get. I have my own business to attend to.”

And oh, how he relishes the moment Tommy realizes he’ll have to walk past all of Alfie’s men, knowing that so many of them fucking heard the sounds he was making, the slap of wood against flesh. 

He tries to look dignified, the poor dear, doing his best to fix his hair and adjust his suit before stepping out the door. His men are smart enough to studiously avoid their gazes, which probably just makes it worse, confirming Tommy’s suspicions that they heard everything. He still holds his head high, even though his ears and his neck are bright pink, and isn’t that just adorable.

“Have a nice day at work, petal,” Alfie calls after him, sweet and sing-song. “Hope the ride back isn’t too bumpy.”


	7. Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy acclimates to his state of enforced chastity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! They keep me posting!

Alfie is nice to him that evening, which isn't too suspicious. He's tends to be nurturing after an intense scene, to let Tommy know that he cares for him, to let him deescalate and process. 

Of course, beneath it all is an undercurrent of sadistic glee. He insists on giving him a sponge bath to avoid having to remove this damned cage, using the opportunity to feel him up thoroughly, to rub and grope and pinch. "It's for the best, sweetie," he informs him, all false sympathy and puppydog eyes, "wouldn't want you getting hard again, would we?"

Of course, Tommy can feel his cock filling every inch of its plastic confines, aching with desire, and he wants to punch him for putting him in this position. As Alfie cleans carefully -- a little too carefully -- around the cage, Tommy imagines holding his head there and thrusting into his mouth till he spills, but obviously that won't happen, either. 

Afterwards, Alfie towels him off, and draws him naked beneath the warm covers. He can't help but press back against Alfie's broad chest. 

Alfie puts on some program that Tommy doesn't care about and absently lets his hands roam, over Tommy's achingly hard nipples, cupping his caged cock possessively, like it's something he owns. Maybe that should make Tommy feel indignant, and to a degree, it does. But more than that, it makes him feel safe. 

* * *

Alfie being nice to him the evening after a scene is to be expected. But when Alfie remains in a sickly-sweet mood the next day, it's cause for concern.

Tommy arrives downstairs to find he's made pancakes, and he insists Tommy eat at least half of one, even though Tommy's not at all hungry. His body is craving something else entirely, and it's not going to be sated for another sixty-two hours and thirty-two minutes. He's counted. 

"So," smiles Alfie, sea-colored eyes glittering, "tell us your plan for the day, sweetheart." 

Tommy is justifiably concerned, but he tries not to show it. "Well," he begins, sipping his coffee, "I have to be in the House of Commons by ten. I'm going to propose a new bill to improve the benefits of impoverished veterans..." 

And Alfie listens, and nods, and offers suggestions, and for a while, it feels like life has gone back to normal. If it weren't for the pinch of plastic around his cock reminding him who between them is in charge. 

* * *

There's an undercurrent of need coursing through Tommy, as surely as blood. His balls feel heavy, tender, like when he was a boy becoming a man for the first time and not quite used to it. His skin feels just a little too tight.

It doesn't stop him from doing his business, of course -- Tommy's gone to work with fever and broken bones before. His mind feels feverish now, feverish with want, with thoughts of sex and relief. 

He finds himself invaded by fantasies of almost everyone around him, every situation he's in. Women brandishing strapons, or bouncing on his cock, their fingers wrapped around his throat. Men bending him over and taking him roughly. Whenever he gets a minute alone, he wishes he could just take out his cock and begin stroking, but of course, that's not an option. 

Only Alfie could reduce him this way, to his basest desires. Only Alfie could get away with it. 

* * *

Tommy is seriously nervous when Alfie is still being nice this evening. He's made matzoh ball soup, which is light enough for Tommy to actually enjoy, and he asks conscientious questions about Tommy's day. He even volunteers to do the dishes.

Only afterwards does he guide Tommy upstairs with a hand on his arse, to discover the dildo suctioned to the floor in the middle of the bedroom. It's enormous, almost nine inches long. 

Tommy knows what's coming even before Alfie takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and gestures expectantly. His eyes glitter dangerously. "Get undressed, sweetheart."

* * * 

Alfie makes Tommy ride the dildo for almost the entirety of the hour. He's exhausted, his legs shaking, trembling like butterfly wings, which he supposes is part of the point. 

"Beautiful fucking arse, darling," Alfie growls, smugness in his voice. "So round, and so red still." 

Tommy wants to beg to stop, but he won't. He won't give the bastard the satisfaction. 

Finally, his leg cramps too much for him to keep going, and Alfie drags him off the dildo by his hair. He slaps him across the face, hard, and quite unexpected. "You have any idea how much I want to stick my cock up your arse right now, boy? Watching you bounce on that dildo like a little fucking tease?"

Tommy feels electrified by arousal, his nerves alight with it, almost painful. His cock throbs in its confines.

Alfie forces his face down towards his erection. "Use your mouth to show me how fucking sorry you are, or you'll get another spanking."

And Tommy does.

* * *

Afterwards, once they're once again hot and entangled and loose-limbed in bed, Alfie kisses his neck. "You okay?" 

Tommy nods, too tired to speak much.

"Wasn't too much?" Alfie presses.

At this, Tommy manages, "Not enough, old man."

This warrants a growl from the dark. "I'll have to make you pay for that tomorrow."

"Go ahead," Tommy huffs. "I'll just get you back once it's my turn. Your arse is mine in two days, and I'll make you sorry then."

Alfie chuckles dangerously. "Sweetie, you couldn't if you tried."


	8. Day Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie brings a strapon to the bedroom; Tommy gets in touch with his feminine side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the filthiest things I've ever written. I love it.
> 
> Thank you for the wonderful comments!!

Tommy turns bright red as soon as he's presented with the strap-on. "What's this?" he asks, blatantly looking anywhere but Alfie's face or the large dildo in his hands, and it makes Alfie want to eat him alive.

"I'm pretty sure you know, mate." Alfie can hear the curl of smugness, the grown of arousal, in his own voice. "Bet you've seen one or two of these in your sporting days, hmm? I know your type."

Tommy looks at the floor, answering that question. 

Alfie has never had any interest or inclination to have a woman in his bed, but now he has an incentive to make an exception: the image of Tommy on all fours, blushing and mortified as he is right now and taking the strap from someone mean in the way only the prettiest of girls can be, wets an appetite deep inside him.

Oh, well. That's a craving that will have to be satiated another time -- his little darling will surely need something of a rest period after this, before Alfie finds some delightful new way to debase him. 

"I hate to disappoint you, Alfie, but I'm afraid these are generally for females." Tommy's clearly trying to sound like himself -- or rather, the act he usually puts on of himself. That cold, steely voice that puts everyone on edge. It makes Alfie want to kiss him. 

"Well." Alfie strolls towards him slowly, so Tommy can feel their size difference. Alfie doesn't miss the way Tommy's breath hitches with arousal. "ONE of us is female right now, isn't he, love?" Seeing Tommy's confused look, Alfie cups his caged cock, causing him to jolt in surprise. Nearly a week's worth of chastity has put the poor boy on edge. "Might as well be, at least."

Tommy glares furious blue daggers, but Alfie can practically feel the arousal radiating off him in waves.

He knows that Tommy has a complex relationship with his own femininity. That he, generally speaking, trusts women more than men, that he inherited his most positive attributes from women, but that he hates being compared to one, probably because his pretty face and demure stature got him compared to one for most of his life. Alfie already knows that being put in feminine positions turns Tommy on like almost nothing else. A delicious form of masochism. 

Alfie can also see the gears turning, the exact moment that Tommy realizes this will mean Alfie is going to be the party getting fucked tonight. His eyes widen faintly, ears bright pink. Alfie steps back and lets the poor dear take a moment to process. He takes the opportunity to retrieve everything else he's prepared for tonight from their chest of drawers. 

He throws them on the bed. "Put these on," he instructs.

Tommy looks to the items as if in a daze, and his face contorts into an expression of embarrassed fury. But the arousal in his wide-blown eyes is absolutely unmistakable. 

"Anything I want for one hour. Remember, poppet?" He can't help but use his voice to wind Tommy up further. "Besides, if you're to be the woman tonight, you should probably look the part." 

* * *

Ten minutes later, Tommy's in stockings held up by suspenders, his caged cock a bulge beneath lace panties. He stubbornly meets Alfie's gaze, but his humiliation is as apparent as his lust: his ears and cheeks are so red Alfie thinks he might burn his hand on them. His own cock throbs at the mere thought of what must be going through his head right now, and he decides to make it a point to get Tommy into women's clothes more often.

"Arms up, sweetheart," Alfie smiles, jangling their trusty pair of handcuffs. 

Tommy stoically lets his arms be cuffed to the bed frame. Satisfied that he's powerless, Alfie straddles that lovely, slim waist and makes small-talk while he adds some finishing touches.

"These were the first cuffs I ever used on you. Remember that?" Alfie asks, rhetorically, as he applies cherry-red lipstick to those pouting lips. Tommy's eyes are downcast now, his chest rising up and down. "Haven't failed me yet, have they? It's 'cause I got 'em from a cop on me payroll. Can't beat that kind of quality, can you, darling?"

He almost feels bad for Tommy, aware of how overwhelming this must be, but he also knows that Tommy will be deeply unsatisfied if they decide to stop -- that his excitement at what's being done to him rivals even the humiliation he's being subjected to. And, Tommy being Tommy, there's absolutely no way he will ASK to stop, which is partially what makes putting him in these situations such a delight. Alfie views himself as being quite magnanimous, really: it's good for Tommy to get a good taste of shame once in a while, to keep his station from going to his head, doing something silly that might get himself seriously hurt, as he's been prone to do in the past.

It's just an added perk that Alfie's cock is so hard right now it's pulsing like it wants to jump off and crawl away.

But he makes himself look unbothered as he smudges Tommy's eyelids with dark eye shadow that makes the blue stand out even more than usual, instructs him to hold still as he applies mascara. "Not bad for a novice, if I do say so myself. Never was one for makeup, but some of my early boyfriends were." He bent down and kissed Tommy's bright red cheek, the flesh burning beneath his lips like it's been scorched. "None of whom held a candle to you, I might add." 

It's important to remind Tommy he's safe in situations like this. The boy is so averse to situations of vulnerability, there have been times in the past when he's shut down, broken down, too ashamed of his own desires to handle it, at being laid so bare. So Alfie can never be entirely mean -- his taunts have to be balanced out with assurances of his love.

Even now, he can feel the way Tommy leans into his touch, desperate for the assurances, even though he probably wants to throttle Alfie right now. Too bad his hands are cuffed. 

"My sweet girl," he murmurs, kissing his way down the fluttering pulse in Tommy's neck, down his chest. He laps at a nipple, already achingly hard. "Poor thing. Must be so sensitive, aren't you, deprived of your pleasure." He doesn't wait for an answer, expecting petulant silence for as long as Tommy can maintain it. So Alfie sucks hard on that one nipple, unrelenting until Tommy groans, so high-pitched it sounds like a whimper, like a declaration of defeat. 

"Such pretty sounds you make, my little songbird." Alfie purposefully neglects the other nipple, knowing it will make him feel unbalanced and frustrated. 

He shimmies down till he's sitting between Tommy's legs, forcing them out wantonly, and cups his balls, as though weighing them, through the silken fabric. He gives him a look of mock pity. "These beauties are sore, hmm? So swollen. So full." Tommy is clearly trying to maintain his look of righteous indignation, but he's clearly teetering on the edge of surrender. His eyes look glassy with unshed tears of frustration. Beautiful. 

Alfie fits Tommy with the strapon. "Funny thing is, it's bigger than yours," he can't help but taunt. "That's okay. Little girls don't need big cocks, do they, lovely thing?"

Tommy's look of absolute fury says it all. He seems to know that sassing Alfie back will only make his situation worse, and that he's outmatched in this situation anyway and words will mean nothing.

The strapon points skyward, like a flagpole, a testament to Tommy's unfulfilled desire. He eyes it with something like yearning.

Alfie takes his time undressing before him. He knows how Tommy loves his body, the beefiness of it, the girth. When he's properly turned on, past the point of coherency, he starts muttering about it, about how big and strong Alfie is. Once he murmured that Alfie was a "big beautiful bear," and was not the least bit amused when Alfie nearly fell off the bed for laughing so hard. He got a taste of his own medicine when Tommy subsequently remarked that Alfie was prone to far more ridiculous flights of dirty talk.

He can see the hunger in Tommy's eyes as he watches Alfie's body appear, and Alfie's got to wonder what he did, amongst his many sins of days gone by, to earn the devotion and lust of such a beautiful fucking creature.

He takes his time opening himself up, turning so Tommy can watch his slicked up fingers disappearing into his arse, groaning to taunt Tommy with the pleasure of it. He's been practicing while Tommy was at work, because he was a bit rusty, right, and the boy clearly deserved a show. 

Finally, he lowered himself onto the dildo, and set to work riding it up and down, pleasure and pain mixed and making him groan.

"Fuck," he sighs. "Feels so good. So fucking good." 

His back is to Tommy, for the optimal view of his glorious arse, of course, but he keeps looking over the shoulder to watch Tommy's reactions. The fury and lust and sheer want in his eyes, hands clenching, chest heaving, blotchy red with the indignity of being dominated so thoroughly, so creatively.

"Wish this was your cock in my arse, little as it is, mate," Alfie informs him, unable to resist the urge to tease and emasculate him even further. "Feel it spill between my cheeks, watch your pretty face as the pleasure overwhelms you. You'll probably come quicker than a virgin, won't you, with how long you'll be pent up. Isn't that right? Maybe you won't even reach my hole before you cream yourself like a little boy."

Tommy actually groans at that, arching off the bed, causing the dildo to rub against Alfie's sweet spot pleasantly.

Eventually, he grows tired, and begins to jack himself as he continues to ride the dildo. The ache in his thighs is pleasant now, but it makes him feel a touch bad about how long he forced Tommy to ride that dildo yesterday. He makes a mental note to rub his legs for him after this. 

He makes sure Tommy can see what he's doing, groaning louder than is probably necessary as he spills. 

"That was lovely, my dear," he sighs. "Wish you could have felt some pleasure yourself. But then, this was your idea, wasn't it, mate?"

Alright, Alfie can concede that was probably unnecessarily mean. Much of this was unnecessarily mean. 

But Tommy's eyes have gone dark with something dangerous, and Alfie knows he's plotting his revenge. He looks like does when he's plotting someone's undoing, which, of course, is part of why Alfie fell in love with the devious little fucker to begin with.


	9. Day Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy collects on his end of the bargain. But can Alfie turn the tables?

Tommy nearly sobs with relief when Alfie finally gives him the key. But he forces his face to remain impassive. 

"I'd rather take it off myself, thank you. Now that I'm no longer your faithful slave for an hour each day, I suppose I'm allowed to do that."

Alfie raises his eyebrows. Normally, Tommy wouldn't think about showing such cheek when Alfie's in Dom Mode, but they had a deal: it's Tommy's turn to have his way with Alfie for once. And Alfie might be insufferable and sadistic, but Tommy knows he'll honor the arrangement. 

"Go wait for me on the bed," Tommy instructs. "I have a bit of primping to do. I'll join you in a minute."

Tommy takes his time getting ready, lets himself picture Alfie sweating it out. Not that Alfie would sweat it out for anyone, but it's a pleasing mental visual nonetheless. 

He loves his fiance, and one of the many reasons he does love Alfie is because he's perhaps the only man Tommy can't defeat. He matches him in cleverness, strips him of his power, of his ability to command. That's something Tommy needs sometimes -- someone to take his power away for a while.

But it goes to Alfie's head sometimes, makes him underestimate him. Tommy's clever, and cunning, and quite merciless. And Alfie's about to remember that the hard way.

* * *

"Go wait on the bed," Alfie mutters, making his voice high-pitched. "Who the hell does he think he is? Bossy little princess." 

Alfie's not exactly anxious, but he has a healthy awareness of how much he's tormented his poor darling all week. And Tommy -- well, one of the very first things that drew him to Tommy, of course, was the tales he'd heard of his razor-sharp intelligence and ruthlessness in battle. He's done his best to strip Tommy of any form of recourse -- just last night, he showed him that he could take a dick far larger than Tommy's slightly-below-average package -- but he probably shouldn't underestimate his little gangster.

Tommy certainly takes his time. Alfie even hears the shower running, and Alfie'd call him a sadistic little fucker if it wouldn't be so hypocritical to express such a sentiment.

When Tommy finally emerges, Alfie's surprised to see him in a suit. An impeccable suit, all smooth lines and sharp edges, looking like he's about to dazzle a room full of fucking politicians. Alfie wonders if this is some kind of a fucking joke.

"Is this some kind of a fucking joke?" he inquires, never one to keep his thoughts to himself. 

“I thought I asked you to wait on the bed,” says the little brat, jutting his chin at him. 

And Alfie grumbles, but he complies. After everything he’s done to Tommy this week, it’s the least he can do to humor the poor thing for a little while. Besides, it’s not like Tommy will last long: he’s been pent up for a week, and there’s no way he won’t spend within seconds. 

Tommy fastens Alfie’s hands with two of his belts, keeping them out of the way. Alfie’s bemused more than anything. “So, you’ve been learning, eh, sweetie? Surprised you could still think, considering how horned up you get the moment your hands are tied.” 

“Shut up, please.” 

Alfie is, if anything, moderately concerned with how calm Tommy appears. It’s no secret – between the two of them, at least – that Tommy’s a sub, and when he’s tied up his IQ seems to plummet at least fifty points as the blood rushes straight to his sweet little cock. But when Tommy’s the one DOING the tying up, it turns out, he’s calm. In control. Businesslike. 

Much like his normal self, when he’s in the House of Commons or the office, instead of wanton in Alfie’s bed. That, Alfie finds concerning. He’s aware of what a formidable enemy Tommy can be. 

Once Tommy has Alfie tied – still clothed, though Alfie hopes that won’t last long – he stands, and surveys the scene with that pristine smugness that makes Alfie wants to bend him in two and fuck him hard. 

“You’ve been very cruel to me lately, Mister Solomons.” 

Fuck. Hearing that in Tommy’s cool, businesslike voice – THAT makes Alfie’s cock twitch against the confines of his trousers. That just wasn’t fucking fair, and Alfie means to say so, but Tommy’s talking again.

“You kept my cock locked up and neglected, took such delight in teasing me.” Tommy’s clever fingers undo the buttons of his shirt swiftly, yet somehow, all too slow. “It’s only fair that I should do a little teasing of my own now. Shouldn’t I, Mister Solomons?”

Alfie’s breath hitches. Appearing beneath that pristine suit is fucking lingerie. That beautiful blue lingerie, that made Tommy blush like a stoplight when Alfie brought it for him, which makes him harder than a flagpole whenever Alfie makes him wear it, that makes Alfie want to ravage him alive. This is not fair, not fair in the fucking slightest. 

“I’ll never be able to overpower you physically. You’ve proven that many times before.” Tommy shrugs off his suit jacket, his vest, leaving his white shirt open and showing the blue glint of silk beneath. “Isn’t that right, Mister Solomons? All the times you’ve spanked me, held me down and fucked me?”

Alfie’s hands clench and unclench. “Like the spanking you’re sure to get if you don’t get the fuck over here right now, girl,” he growls. 

A flush rises on Tommy’s lovely cheekbones, but he remains composed. He knows he’s the one in power. “What a foolish thing to say, Mister Solomons, when I’m the one in control of your pleasure.” 

He slides off his pants, and fuck, he’s even shaved his legs. Alfie can see the liquid musculature beneath the smooth, pale skin. He looks like a Greek fucking statue. “I have other strengths, you see. Other ways in which I can bring men to their knees. Great men like you.” 

Finally, the white shirt flutters to the floor, showing the way the lingerie accentuates the feminine nip of his waist. 

“You’ve been cruel to me, Mister Solomons.” Tommy saunters over, running his hands up and down his silk-covered torso. His hips sway side to side, and Alfie wonders at how confident he is at his femininity right now. Probably because he’s the one in control. “And now, I’ll be cruel to you.” 

And he is. He pushes in without any prep, for starters, but it’s nothing Alfie can’t take. He’s taken far bigger before, in years gone by, and found the experience quite pleasant. 

Alfie being Alfie, he can’t help but run his mouth about it. 

“Sweet little prick you have, Tom. Small and pretty, just like you.” Alfie swallows a groan at the slight burn as he’s breached. “Only a little bigger than my thumb.” 

“Shut. Up.” Alfie takes pleasure in the look of pure bliss on Tommy’s face. The poor boy, his first taste of relief all week, and the first time in almost two years he’s gotten to fuck something besides Alfie’s mouth. 

Alfie can’t risk squeezing, clenching down on Tommy’s cock, just to be sadistic. “Oopsies.” 

Tommy makes a high, broken noise, and his lovely hips stutter, and as Alfie predicted, he comes. A week’s worth of spend releases in Alfie’s arse, livid hot. 

Tommy’s left breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed, air puffing from his open mouth. 

“Better luck next time, sweetie pie,” he smiles, all false sympathy. “Now, be a lamb and undo my bindings, will you? It’s been a week since I’ve gotten to fuck your lovely arse.” 

Those blue eyes snap open, and to Alfie’s surprise, they don’t show defeat. “Why would I do that, Alfie?” The corner of his mouth curls, devious. “The deal was, I’d get to fuck you. I never specified I’d only do it once.”

Well, fuck. This certainly is a development. 

Tommy proceeds to eat out Alfie’s arse for what’s surely an hour, moaning like a wanton whore as he sucks out his own release. Alfie grits his teeth, feeling quite sorry for himself as he watches his own dick pulse forlornly, neglected. He never thought he’d marry such a little sadist. 

He begins working discreetly as the bindings of his right hand. Tommy’s good with knots, but Alfie’s just as good at undoing them. 

It’s just getting loose when Tommy’s finally had his fill. “Not sure if I’m quite ready to fuck you again just yet,” he informs him, lips glossy and obscene. “I think I’ll play with myself a while, just to see if I feel like it.” 

He begins to work himself open with those thick, clever fingers, and Alfie stifles a groan, his cock twitching. Little fucking minx. He can’t just get away with this. 

Alfie discretely works at the binding faster, while Tommy’s distracted with his own pleasure. Just as Tommy appears to be finished, Alfie’s just about ready for his hand to slip through. He just has to wait for the right moment.

Tommy enters him again, and this time, it feels loose and sloppy as a wet rubber band. Tommy groans, like a swan, trumpeting its victory. His lingerie glistens in the dim light. What a beautiful fucking creature. 

“So fucking hot inside, Daddy,” he groans, his hips rolling. Alfie’s poor, neglected prick twitches against his stomach. “Can’t believe you never let me inside you before. So cruel of you to deny me this pleasure.” 

Gone, from Tommy’s voice and from his motions, is the strung-out desperation. Clever little beast knew he had the saved-up stamina for more than one go, and he decided to use that to his advantage. Too bad he’s too caught up in his own victory to notice that Alfie’s about to make his mistake. 

Tommy takes his time fucking him, and the sight of him – so wanton, so unabashedly indulging his pleasure, so cleverly using his femininity to his advantage – is near enough to make Alfie blow right now. But he waits. He waits till the time is right.   
“Don’t think I’m going to let you come after this.” Tommy’s thrusts are speeding up, and those heavy lids are closed in bliss. “I’ll keep you strung out for hours, just like you did to me, Daddy. I’ll ride your dick for my pleasure, and you’ll have no choice –” here, his voice cracks faintly – “OH. No fucking choice but to take what I give you.”

He’s coming now, that lovely, lush mouth hanging open in pleasure. Now’s the time. 

As Tommy loses himself in his second orgasm of the evening, Alfie yanks his arm free of its binding. Tommy’s eyes fly open, but it’s too late: Alfie’s hand is on his throat, even as his hips stutter through the aftershock. 

Alfie smiles at his startled face. “You should know better than to speak to your daddy that way, my dear.” 

* * *

Alfie’s far nicer to Tommy than he normally would be. Partially because, well – well, Alfie sort of had all that coming, didn’t he? He’d been awfully mean to Tommy all week. Not that he feels bad about it. But he can see how it might warrant retaliation. 

Yes, he whips Tommy’s poor arse red with one of the conveniently handy belts. He’s not entirely altruistic. With the other, he tied Tommy’s hands behind his back and forced him to ride his cock, still lashing red stripes onto those lovely round cheeks all the while.

It didn’t take Alfie long to come, but he took a page from Tommy’s playbook and spent the next thirty minutes or so eating out his arse till he’s ready to go again. This time, he fucks Tommy bent in half, with his knees over his shoulders. 

But he doesn’t punish Tommy nearly as much as he normally would for such insolent behavior. 

He only forces one more orgasm from his poor, oversensitive little prick, and then he runs a bath for them, spooning Tommy from behind as they soak, nosing his hair. 

“You left that one binding loose on purpose, didn’t you,” he supposes. “Gypsies are good with knots.”

Tommy noses at Alfie’s shoulder, sleepy-eyed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Alfie. And that’s incredibly racist.”

“Yeah, it is, probably,” Alfie admits. “But you wanted me to get free. Wanted me to punish you. Isn’t that right?”

“That would be awfully self-destructive.”

“Maybe. If you weren’t such a little sub.” Alfie squeezed Tommy’s freshly-punished arse, making him whimper, just to prove his point. “Can’t stay in charge too long, can you, treacle?”

Tommy’s evidently too tired to deny it. Three orgasms will do that to a man, Alfie supposes. “Only with you, Alfie.” 

They get out shortly afterwards, because Tommy’s falling asleep on Alfie’s chest, and as rightly pleasant as that is, Alfie’d prefer to do it in bed. 

“You were beautiful this week,” he murmurs into that soft thatch of hair.

“Mmm-hmm,” Tommy mumbles.

“I’m taking you somewhere this weekend. No ‘buts’ about it. Somewhere with a seashore. You need a little tenderness, after all that.” 

He feels Tommy smile against his chest. “I’ll pack some handcuffs anyway. Just in case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who read this fic, and a special shout-out to those who commented! More fics about these two to come -- I have MANY ideas -- but I can't wait to hear what you think about this one!


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